REVEAL - Scorpio & Harlan (Fettered Book 2) (14 page)

I
sit on my bed
, buck naked, the sounds of my favorite bad-ass playlist pounding the walls of my apartment, and sigh. Even classic rock can’t pull me out of this weird place I’ve landed in.

I sigh again and turn off the music. Time to hear myself think.

There are clothes all over my apartment. I’ve emptied my closet and the spare-bedroom one that holds my retired performance gear, and I’ve found three dozen things I could wear to the dance. All of them would probably work, because, charity ball or not, this is a Fettered event and black, chains, and leather are never going to be outside the lines.

But I can’t do it.

I finger the lingerie that’s been sitting on the end of my bed for the last two hours, staring at me and daring me and keeping me honest.

Last time Harlan sent me something to wear, I went to him full of anger and fury and darkness. This time he’s asking me to show up as my softest self—and he’s giving me an out. The option to hide it under whatever else I’m wearing tonight. To wear purple and lace for him and for me, and to be some comfortable version of Scorpio for everyone else.

He’s willing to let me hide. The man who’s favorite kink is public, and whose family will be at this dance.

I flop back on my bed, annoyed and uncomfortable because in two closets’ worth of stuff, nothing is close to what I need. I have fifteen pairs of army boots and not a single pair of dancing shoes, and that just drives home the message of the spanking that landed on my ass last night.

Somewhere along the way, I’ve gotten way too comfortable being tough.

I look at the two options on the foot of my bed that are the best choices I can find inside the four walls of my apartment. The first one is a dress I wore to Freddy’s wedding. It’s black and silky and a little bit frilly, and it fits the bill for what to wear tonight better than anything else I own.

Except for the fact that Freddy’s a coke-addicted asshole now and his wedding is divorce-streaked dust.

I don’t want to carry blood in with me tonight.

My second option is the only other dress I own. It’s short, sleek, and black with a fishnet overlay, and it goes great with army boots. All the Dommes would be jealous. Which is so not the way I want to feel tonight.

I growl at both options and pitch them into my monstrous discard pile. When did my clothes become my armor? When did I get this scared of being a human being who is soft and bleeds and is willing to let people see that?

And what do I do with the man who was willing to hold up that mirror for me even as I hissed and clawed at him?

I close my eyes and see his face in my office. The one that showed up asking for my trust. The vulnerable heart that lives beneath the leathers. That’s the man I need to dress for tonight. For him and for the woman he’s somehow made the space for me to want to be.

I laugh, and feel the energy of rightness billowing to life inside me. I know what I need to do. What I want to do.

I have two hours. It’s time to prove just how good I am at back-room miracles.

“
H
oly shit
. Harlan?”

I turn and scowl at the evil grin of the man behind me. “Shut up.”

The woman beside him smiles at me, delighted. “Ignore him. You look totally handsome.”

I feel like a walrus that got lost and can’t find his way back to the sea. “It’s a dance. Ari said to dress up.”

Emily’s eyes are twinkling. “Okay. You stick with that story.”

I shake my head at her. “Since when did you get all wise and tough and gorgeous?” She’s in something yellow and shiny that lights her up like the sun.

Damon growls and tugs her in closer. “Go find your own woman.”

I’m trying, but she’s not here yet.

Emily’s eyes get wide. “Uh, sweetie—I think the mayor just walked in.”

We all blink—he’s kink friendly, but generally in a distant, hands-off kind of way. Apparently a nice hotel ballroom has changed his policy some. I watch as my best friend and his personal sunshine head off on an intercept course, and wonder what the heck I’m supposed to do with myself.

I try to stuff my hands in my pockets, but fancy jackets clearly aren’t meant to make that possible. I scowl and check out the ballroom instead. It’s big and pretty and the people dancing in the middle look happy, so I assume Ari has pulled off another of her decorating miracles.

Fettered’s membership is here in force, but they’ve heeded the request to be visible and interesting, but not outrageous. Which is clearly stretching some of them, and I can totally sympathize. I’m a Dom way out of his dungeon.

Ari swings by, dancing with the man who handled her so well at charades night. It’s too bad he’s just visiting. I let myself feel sad for her, even though she’d poke me in the ribs for it. Ari’s amazing, and there aren’t enough Doms who can truly partner her when she wants to surrender.

“It’s going to suck for her when he leaves.” Quint’s at my shoulder, watching the same pair of dancers.

“Yeah.” I look over at him, measuring. “She’s kind of screwed when all the best Doms in Seattle think of her as their little sister.”

He snorts. “I’m not fucking playing with Ari. Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Just checking.” The rest of us have been a dead loss for years.

“I love her and I’ll take apart any guy who messes with her, and that’s where it ends.”

He’ll have to get in line. “She’s pretty good at taking care of herself.” Which is part of the problem. Finding a guy who can handle all of who she is won’t be an easy job.

Maybe not all that different from the one I’ve suddenly landed in.

“Ari’s not the only one I’m keeping my eye on tonight.” Quint points his chin at the woman who mans the front desk at Your Perfect Moment. “There’s some interest brewing there.”

Gabby’s dancing with Jacob, smiling up at him sweetly. “He’s way taken. Marla doesn’t share.”

Quint’s shaking his head. “She’s being smart and dancing with guys who are safe. But she’s starting to wonder what we do behind closed doors.”

I stare at him and then at the curvy woman on the dance floor who’s blushing furiously at whatever Marla has just said on her way by. “Gabby wants to play?”

“Maybe.”

Shit. We’ve all kind of adopted her as our sweet, sexy, cookie-baking older sister. “Didn’t see that one coming.” I don’t ask if he’s sure. Quint’s job is new-member intake, and he has that job for a reason. “Does Ari know? Or Emily, maybe?”

“Huh. That’s a good idea.” Quint starts scanning the ballroom, looking for the woman who’s wrapped our boss around her little finger and several other body parts. “I’ll get on that. You find Gabby some potential playmates.”

I give him a dirty look, even though I’m already running through the member list in my head. Probably not what I’m supposed to be doing at a charity ball, but at least Quint’s pulled my head out of my ass some. A little dungeon talk and I’m not feeling quite so fish out of water anymore.

I see movement over by the entry archway, the whispers and murmurs and energy swirls that mean someone special has arrived.

I know who it is. I don’t need the speculative looks my direction, or Leo’s appreciative whistle, or the stunned glee on Ari’s face as she does an excellent impression of a human pogo stick.

I stand still, my heart doing something stupid in my chest, and wait for my woman to arrive. I won’t deny her the grand entrance she deserves—or save her from it.

The crowd parts, and it’s all I can do not to scoop her up and eat her whole.

She walks toward me slowly, a gift in black and gold and shining eyes.

I try to drink it all in. She’s wearing a dress that looks like it fell out of an eighty-year-old movie. Simple and gold with a slit up the front that’s giving me glimpses of some very sexy legs and letting the whole damn world see what a glorious hip wiggle she has. Her hair is spilling down around her shoulders, soft and curly and begging for my hands.

But the part that’s stabbed me somewhere essential to breathing is the tiny straps of her dress and the plunging neckline that show off the black lace she’s wearing underneath. Wearing—and letting everyone see.

She stops a couple of steps away from me, and I’m not the only one staring.

It’s Scorpio who finally finds her voice. “Wow. We clean up okay.”

Way beyond okay. “You wore it.”

She grins at me, but I can see the anxiety dancing in her eyes. “You asked nicely.”

I growl, because my Dom wants in on this gig and he’s not in the mood to be nice. “You look totally fucking gorgeous. And lickable.”

The nerves in her eyes flee, and she laughs.

I hold out my arms, because everything in me is running out of oxygen and I need to hold her. “Dance with me?”

She grins as she steps into my chest. “I probably should have warned you—I can’t dance.”

I swoop her in, because there’s no excuse on Earth that’s going to stop me from holding her. “Want to stand on my feet? Ari’s been giving me lessons.”

I
step into his arms
, needing a moment to figure out the rules of gravity on this new planet where we’re not at the club and the only leather and chains are on other people.

He wraps me up like I’m everything that’s precious, and if I don’t know how to dance, I can’t remember that anymore. I feel tilted, giddy, off balance and not at all unhappy to be there. He nuzzles into my neck. “With the fancy shoes, you’re almost as tall as I am.”

The shoes are going to kill me dead, along with the sappy music that’s making me want to melt into him and never come back out. “Enjoy them while they last. I’m going to lead a barefoot revolution in this place in about ten minutes.” Club members got warned to stay suitably clothed, but nobody said a word about footwear.

Leo and Sam dance by us, and Sam waggles his eyebrows outrageously. “Scorpio, when you’re done with him, can he marry me?”

Harlan snorts. “Someone’s angling for a spanking.”

“Nope.” Sam grins. “I get to flirt with one gorgeous man a night, and you’re it, handsome.”

I look at Leo and laugh. “How do you keep him alive?”

He shakes his head ruefully. “I have no idea.” He neatly navigates Sam between two swirling couples and away.

Harlan growls into my hair, and I just grin. He can play all the Dom cards he wants, but he can’t fool me. Something entirely different is flowing here tonight—and I want it, so much more than I ever could have imagined. I want him, but it’s not just sex and I don’t just want to be his sub. I want what I asked him for before I ever signed his contract, even though I didn’t really know the fullness of what I meant. The in-betweens. The time between the edges.

And I’m dancing in the arms of a man who has invited, teased, cajoled, and spanked me into being brave enough to ask for what I want.

But there’s something I need to do first, because he’s also taught me the power of listening—and I’m hearing so many things from him tonight. I lean into his chest, feeling the strange lines of his crisp, sexy suit under my cheek. A hell of a statement from the man who normally dresses his soft heart in tats and leathers, and I know damn well he’s done it for me. To keep me company in my bravery. To be the wind and the Dom and the man at my back.

But maybe for more than that too, and that’s the piece I need to chase. I tip my head up to look at him, and the deep happiness in his eyes drowns all my words.

He leans down and kisses me, soft and slow and lazy, like there’s all the time in the world. “What is it, beautiful?”

It takes me a moment to remember. I raise a hand to his cheek. “What do you want, Harlan?”

He tips his head, adorably confused.

That’s because I’m not making any sense, which is totally the fault of his hands and his eyes and his huge beating heart. “You keep asking me what I want, and giving me that and more I didn’t even know I wanted. But you’ve never really answered that question for me.”

His hand tangles gently in my curls. “I’m not clear on all of it yet. Some different things than I wanted a week ago, for sure.”

I blow out softly. “Yeah. That makes two of us.”

He tips his forehead into mine. “I want more of this.”

I can’t hold in the smile. “Really? More time in a suit with me stepping on your toes?”

“Ah, you’re a lightweight.” He grins and kisses my nose. “But yeah. Maybe not the suit. But more time out of the club with you in my arms all soft and pretty—that would be pretty damn awesome.”

I give him the evil eye, which actually takes some effort, given my current goopy mood. “I can’t believe you just called me pretty. Take it back or I’ll go find Mari and feed her some lines about Fettered’s manager in his sexy suit.” The
Dish
reporter would eat it up, and probably nibble on Harlan too.

He growls, and the hand on my back swoops down over my ass. “Careful.”

I grin. There’s my slightly uncivilized Dom. “You can spank me later. For now, talk to me.”

He cuddles me in, and we sway together in something that isn’t so much a dance of bodies, but feels like a dance of hearts. “I have a really good life. A job I love, friends who go to the mat for me, things that stretch me and make me feel good every day.”

I smile, because he’s so speaking the words of my soul. “Yeah, me too.”

He nuzzles his cheek against mine. “And then you showed up and I see holes I didn’t know existed.” He reaches for my fingers, interlacing them slowly. “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I walked down the street holding someone’s hand?”

He’s breaking me wide open with the aching wonder in his words. “We should maybe try doing that in broad daylight.”

His entire body stills.

He taught me to ask. To say the words. “Be my guy, Harlan.”